love, lavender, and everything else in between
by ember53608
Summary: they take her back to painted streets and petty wars, to love for the first time in a place beyond the moon. [post-canon drabbles.]
1. yeah, i could get used to the noise

There are some issues with canon in this one, mainly concerning Sasuke, but that's just because I wrote this before Gaiden came out. I honestly didn't think any mission would be so demanding that Sasuke would decide to neglect his family for twelve years, but you know what? Let's not get me started on that.

As always, read and review, please!

* * *

Naruto never intended to leave her so soon, in all honesty.

There were too many things he wanted to do with Hinata; really look into her eyes, hear the rhythm of her breath against his back; talk to her for more than thirty minutes. Her presence had always been there, if he thought about it, but he'd never quite taken it into account. Not until the war, and everything that came after. He wanted to make it up to her. "Wait for me," he'd said.

He'd meant it.

More than three weeks away from her - it had been so agonizing. The hollow air that lathered his back had seemed so strange, an anomaly in his life of love and laughter. He had touched it in the middle of the night, pawing at the empty air with his clammy fingers. Odd, how the absence of her body there had left him feeling so inchoate. As soon as she'd filled the gap in his heart, he hadn't wanted to let go.

Loneliness was hard to bear the second time over, he'd realized.

He and Sasuke walked now, in average strides to the gates of the village. The moon hung over the sky, casting a silvery glow on the haphazard buildings inside. Naruto carried a number of decaying scrolls in his hand, Sasuke likewise. They both had their scars to show, but these were the kind that would heal and whisper away, so they paid them no heed. A quiet thumping started up in Naruto's heart.

The guards at the gates waved them on, and they stepped onto the cobblestone path that wound its way to the Hokage rock face. They shared a route and walked close to each other, never uttering a word. Naruto sneaked a glance at Sasuke, but eh vagabond was staring at the sky, eyes distant. He did this sometimes, when the people were few and the air near silent. Mostly he would think about his brother, but it wasn't uncommon for his parents to graze his mind either. Naruto had only seen pictures, but he noticed more and more how much Sasuke looked like his father, jaw pulled taught, hair hanging over.

Fugaku would be proud, Naruto thought with a secluded smile.

The brothers-in-blood passed a towering apartment complex. Naruto looked back at it for one, two, three seconds, then turned away. He still remembered where his old apartment was, the first room to the right on the seventh floor. Its window was black, a mirror to the darkness of midnight. A wave of nostalgia consumed him, but not for long. There were other things he should be looking forward to, he reminded himself, and walked on.

When he reached the door, he stopped. The red painted wood was by no means soundproof, and he heard laughter echo from inside through the cracks. His Adam's apple bobbed nervously, and he stared hollowly through the small circle drilled near the top of the door. A flash of violet hair caught his eye. His heart stopped.

"What?" said Sasuke irritably from the shadows, waiting for Naruto to walk past the threshold and into the light.

"Voices," said the blond distantly. "I hear voices."

Sasuke rolled his eyes and walked forward, poking Naruto between the eyes. A ghost of a smile flashed briefly across his lips. "Of course, you do, stupid. Now go home." And he walked away, into the night and towards another light he called home.

Naruto gulped down the hollow of air still stuck in his throat. His hand trembled as it flattened against the wood and pushed. The hinges let loose a whining wail. He felt his hand come away from his as the door was pulled open from the other side. There she stood, hair cascading down her back, moon eyes peering at him in wonder. "I thought I heard-"

"-voices," he finished. Hinata blinked at him, staring. He realized he liked the color of her eyes; like milk, but with a lavender tinge.

"Are you..." she echoed, hesitant. Naruto blinked. His lips stretched wide in a grin.

"Yeah," he said. He stepped past the threshold and closed the door behind him, their distance along with it. His mouth touched the hair at her forehead, and their eyes caught. Hinata smiled. Hanabi yelled from somewhere inside.

"I'm home."

* * *

 **Note:** I have more than twenty fics with these two that I've only published to Tumblr, so I won't be running out of material any time soon. And these fics date back to almost a year ago, so with each new drabble, the writing will improve. I'll also be updating bi-monthly. :)


	2. moon eyes and lavender

This is something short and sweet that I wrote **before** The Last came out. And honestly, I think this is how I would've preferred for their first kiss to go down. The one in the movie was a little too mushy for my pleasure.

As always, read and review, please!

* * *

When he kisses her for the first time, he cannot describe it.

Her lips are soft, and she follows where his mouth goes. She tastes like lemon tea sprinkled with mint. His nose slips messily past hers when he doesn't tilt his head enough, and he can't believe he never knew how overwhelmingly she smelled of lavender. Lavender, lavender, lavender. He sifts her hair through his fingers, holding her head in between his hands and pulling her up to him.

It's amazing to Naruto, how naturally it all comes, almost as if they're puzzle pieces waiting to be put together. She tugs gently at one short lock of his hair, and he pulls back to rest his forehead against hers. Her eyes stay closed for but a moment. When she opens them, they are as round and silvery in the glinting light as the moon when it shines amidst darkness. He smiles like a fool and rocks back and forth on his feet as he peers into her moon eyes with delight.

"What?" Hinata asks, and he grins. "Seriously," he teases, leaning in to kiss her jaw, but not quite, "how _did_ you stand waiting for me all those years?"

She considers the question, giggling when he kisses the spaces of skin around her mouth. "I didn't," she says thoughtfully. She pulls him away from her face, tangling the tips of her fingers in his spiky hair. He breathes her in - breathes lavender in - and hums, closing his eyes.

"You were always there." And she kisses him again.


	3. breathe me into life

Set directly after the happenings of 700. This one-shot is a little more Naruto-centric, but the effect of Hinata's presence on her husband is something that I think makes it count towards the pairing anyway. ;)

Read and review, please!

* * *

Naruto does not see much, but he sees enough.

Boruto waves his arms wildly in the air and reenacts the encounter from earlier this morning to his mother and sister, who are clearly enraptured. Himawari stares at her brother with wide eyes and leans forward from her mother's lap. Contrary to most little sisters, she is never not captivated with Boruto's antics. In times of trouble, she seeks his advice before her own mother's and is content to apply, no matter its wavering reliability. Boruto is loath to admit it, but the way she adores him makes him feel proud.

Hinata listens intently to his story, smiling as he tells it. She sees Naruto cross the threshold out of the corner of her eye, and a stifled chuckle slips past her lips. He rolls his eyes in return and stays standing where he is, deciding to let the scene play out. Boruto is nearing the climax of his escapade, and Himawari by now is almost falling out of Hinata's arms.

"And you know what I painted on Dad's face?" says the rascal excitedly, nearly bursting with pride. "What, what?" asks Himawari, who is, expectedly, dying to know.

He leans in close, casts an eye about the room - Naruto is hidden in the foyer's shadow - and whispers, _"Shitty dad."_

Hinata immediately claps her hands over Himawari's ears and blushes furiously. "Boruto!" she scolds, trying as best as she can to keep a straight face. Naruto watches in amusement as laughter sneaks its way up her throat. Her lips start to tremble, but she bites down and manages to shoot her son a brief but threatening glare.

Himawari squirms helplessly in her mother's iron-handed grip. Her brother's words are lost of her, thankfully, but that doesn't render her interest in them any less. She asks for him to say them again, but by this time, Naruto has walked into the room. He scoops her up and into his arms, blowing raspberries on her cheeks. As she squeals at him to stop, he pulls back to look at her semi-seriously and say, "Nothing you need to know, okay?"

She nods obediently. If anything, Himawari is just as much her father's daughter as she is her mother's. A soft yawn escapes her, and she slowly blinks her eyes. It's that time of day, so Naruto sets his cape on the sofa and tilts his head in the direction of the bedroom she shares with her brother. Hinata nods before turning to Boruto. The golden-haired boy looks at her bashfully as she pulls his hands into her own and stretches their fingers apart. He has never been good with lectures, but his mother's in particular are kind enough to put him to shame.

When Naruto returns from putting Himawari to sleep, Boruto still stands across from his mother, trying hard to keep the frown on his face. Hinata's words to him are soft and caring. She ruffles his hair and plants a kiss on his cheek, then turns to her husband expectantly. Upon kneeling down to Boruto's level, he asks in earnest, "Do you want to practice throwing kunai later?" Boruto grins and nods fervently. "It's set then. After dinner, okay?" And the delinquent runs off, in excited search of kunai.

"He's just like you," teases Hinata affectionately. Naruto laughs. "And that's a good thing?" he asks.

"It isn't a bad thing," she replies. "Besides, he has a father. A good father."

"You think so?" Naruto fumbles with the collar of his shirt, frowning. Though he doesn't say so aloud, he begs to differ. Every breathing moment of his life is plagued with worries upon worries, but in the end, what makes him most anxious is not whether he can protect the village for another day, but if his children can still stand to love him by the end of it.

Hinata peers at him anxiously. She sees through his skin, down to ever nerve and blood vessel, down to every bone. His thought are still blind to her, but she sees the sadness in his eyes, so she softens her gaze and reaches over to touch his face.

His eyes are childlike, big and bright and blue. When she kisses his lips three times, from one end to the other, soft and slow, he pulls his lips into the slightest of smiles. Though the guilt still tugs at him, having her there makes it all the more easier to bear. (So is what she says next.)

"I know."


	4. all of the stars

An immediate post-war reunion between Naruto and Hinata was prompted to me on Tumblr. This is the result, albeit fixed up somewhat.

Read and review as always, please!

* * *

Hinata wears her scratches like queens wear crowns, and Naruto sees her instantly, standing on an elevated slope with her face to the sky, smiling into the mellow light of the newly sprouted sun. His gaze drifts from the immediate circle of people around him, and he finds he can't focus for the itch at the back of his throat. Sakura comes up from behind and touches his shoulder, looks into his eyes. "Go," she murmurs, and for a split second, he wonders if he can say that he is still in love with her.

As he walks away, Sakura watches him and lets herself wonder. He is dense, and his love is blind, but she supposes that's what she's come to love about him herself, and so she lets him go, lets him find his way home to a love that she could never give him but has always, _always_ wanted to.

His path to Hinata isn't a straight one. He weaves through clusters of ninja and picks out little reunions from amid the disarray. When he feels that he's close, he discovers that she is so, so much farther away than he thought she'd be, which is strange, because somehow Hinata's always found her way to his side.

He stops, realizing that the hand he gave her to hold is no longer there.

["It's thanks to you that stayed at my side!"]

At the top of the rocky slope, Naruto holds his only arm limply at his side and calls her name. There are tears in her eyes and laughter in her lips. The words in his mouth jumble together and he does not know what to say, but thankfully, she does, and his heart hurts a little less.

"Naruto-kun," Hinata begins, "you did it." A raw laugh escapes his throat. When he murmurs a quick phrase of denial, she takes it, folding it like a love letter to be tucked away into the treasure chest that lies just a little to the right of her center.

She has kept so many of his words in her heart, arranging them like stars in a constellation.

"I'm sorry I didn't come for you," he says. She lifts her head to stare at him in surprise. His brow is pinched as he looks at the ground, and a subtle guilt is laden in the contours of his face. Hinata is reminded of a boy running through the streets, painting the walls of it with colors upon colors until someone drew the light out of his eyes.

Oh, that she could see that light again.

Her gaze flickers to his arm - the one that is no longer there - and she wonders if she can still remember the way his hand felt when it held hers. Sandpaper nails, gentle fingers, dirty skin. It has been almost a thousand years since she last touched him, and she can still remember the details.

So maybe he can forgive himself, too.

The faintly familiar courage from before swells inside her, and she brings her hand to his face yet again, holding its rounded angles in her fingers. Though her mouth hurts from laughing, a smile still stretches across her lips, too content to fade away with the pains of war. Hinata finds herself looking into blue skies again; Naruto into silvery moons. They hold their silence for a moment, warm each other with their faces and their fingers.

And then she whispers, "You did."


	5. you are in love

This isn't exactly NH-centric, but it is one of my favorite Naruto pieces that I've ever written. It takes place in The Last, however I first wrote this after a preview, so I'm pretty sure close to nothing in here is actually canon. Now that I've seen the movie, I'll admit that this is what I would've preferred to happen in terms of a deep conversation between Sakura and Naruto. God knows it's more original and consistent than the 'you liked me because I liked Sasuke' bullshit.

Anyway, as always, read and review, please!

* * *

"It hurts."

Sakura looks up from his arm. His eyes are hollowed out of their light, and he looks away from her, unable to meet her eyes. In ways, his behavior reminds her of herself, and she smiles softly, turning back to the bandages she's been wrapping in circles over his skin.

"You arm, or your heart?"

"Both," he says, playing with the fingers of his free hand. Their shadow makes intangible shapes on the cave walls, and Naruto furrows his brow in annoyance. If he could, he would smash his fist against the rocky floor, break the bones of his hand in one fluid motion. As it stands, however, his chakra is close to inexistent, and that scenario much the same.

"My heart hurts more, though," he adds. Shikamaru lets out a laugh. The young tactician's face flickers in the dim light of the cave, and as always, he holds his fingers in a cupped u-shape and presses his eyes closed. Temari's voice flickers, likewise, in his head, and he curses himself. He can her asking him that December day: asking him if this time, he'd like for her to say. And he can hear himself say, in a haste that was anything but necessary, "I don't know." _(I don't know, I don't know.)_

Needless to say, his heart hurts a little bit, too.

"You know," interjects Sakura, pulling the last stretch of bandages tight, "once a girl sets her mind on someone, it's hard to change it." She watches Naruto shift, watches him consider what she's just told him. The light in his eyes has certainly dimmed, but she can still catch some glimmers of naivete. He has come back to her all over again, this Naruto of five years ago, looking to her for answers he cannot find. She wouldn't dare say it aloud, but this is the part of him that she thinks she loves most.

"Really," he asks, slowly, doubtfully, and she flicks his forehead. _"Really."_ A grin plays at her lips, and though he should probably be put off by it, he smiles a little, because Sakura loves him. Maybe not in the way that he's always wanted her to, but in a way that he can accept and cherish for a lifetime. As she lays her head back against the wall, Shikamaru continues to ponder and Sai nods off into sleep. For the first time that night, the silence that pierces the cave is not threatening, but sits at a lull.

Sakura thinks about her years with the blue eyed boy. She thinks about his dreams and their culminations. She thinks about his head full of so many aspirations that, at times, room for little else exists. She thinks about him asking her not to lie.

"Are you in love with her?" she murmurs. Naruto smiles. The one space that's kept them in their corners of the world closes, and they look at each other with something Sai - who has opened his eyes - cannot describe. Understanding, maybe. Acceptance. A willingness to move on with their lives. The ex-ANBU chuckles, then tries to figure out sleep for a second time. Quiet comes over them all like a blanket, and for the moment, all is right with the world.

Naruto makes a fist and closes his eyes.

"Yeah, I am."


	6. paper crowns

This was one part of a fiver that I wrote; the running theme with each drabble was 'nervous', but in all honesty, this is the only one of the drabbles I genuinely liked.

As always, read and review!

* * *

"Nervous?"

Naruto looks up from his feet. He stands at the foot of Hinata's bedroom window dressed in robes of orange gold, fumbling with every last thing out of pure distress. He's sure that by now his hair is out of his place and his robes somehow askew, but the sound of her voice tempers him a bit, and he breathes. It is only their wedding day; nothing at all to be worried about.

"Yeah," he answers, "I, uh - I've never been married before."

Hinata laughs from inside, and his cheeks crimson. _Stupid, stupid!_ he thinks but doesn't say aloud, for fear of further embarrassment. Her laughter carries clearly out the window, and he wishes that, just for the one moment, he could look at her face. Over the years he has learned that she likes a little kohl along the line of her eye, and sometimes some scented balm for her lips. Although fairly simple, her makeup regimen brings out the color of her eyes and the taste of her lips on his tongue, and he loves her for it.

Naruto feels his pulse suddenly escalate - only one hour left between now and the altar. His fingers and forehead are rimmed with sweat, and he constantly feels the need to smooth out plaits in his robes. The spikes in his hair are most likely poking out at odd angles that will make him look tacky, and he frets beyond repair, because he knows.

He knows, he knows, he knows: that she will look like a princess and he like a pauper.

A hand touches his shoulder. Naruto whirls around and finds himself staring into moon eyes. He can trace the line of her kohl, smell the scent of her lavender lips. Hinata beams.

"Me, neither."


	7. beauty

This was written when the first trailers for The Last came out, so the content's not totally accurate (not that I really care).

Read and review, please!

* * *

He has never seen her in black.

Or rather, he has never seen her in any color other than lavender or grey. Golden crescent moons dangle from Hinata's ears, and a beaded chain falls around her face. The turban hides her hair, so he pulls it away with a tug while she stares at him, speechless.

He never knew how much he'd miss violet.

Toneri erupts in a burst of crystal blue flame, and she holds him tighter, her fingers curling into the spaces where his shirt tears. The gloves she wears warm his skin, and he squeezes her free hand. Her moon eyes are stretched wide, his blue ones thin. Kurama growls from the back of his throat, and Naruto's skin begins to glow like coal among embers.

"Hinata," he says, "let's go."

She smiles at him - "yes" - and his heart shakes.

["I love you."]

They're off.


	8. lovers in japan

This was one part of a three-shot, with the other parts involving different pairings. I'm pretty sure I wrote this before we actually got to know what their house looked like, so pardon me for the inconsistencies.

As always, read and review, please!

* * *

Naruto has never seen a house so large in his life, and frankly-

-it frightens him.

Hinata stands at his side, still dressed in a billowing kimono of white. Her hair falls down past her shoulders, left alone for aesthetics and (perhaps) the fact that he loves running his fingers through it. She watches him intently as he walks slowly up to the wrought iron gate, his eyes stretched wide with wonder. The mansion is a gift from her father, and as grand as it gets. It looks out on one side to the rock face dedicated to Hokage of the past and present.

Naruto swallows. "It's huge," he whispers, voice cracking.

His apartment flashes before his eyes: kitchen, bedroom, bathroom. That was all there ever was in that box on the ninth floor; that and his empty body, curled into the covers of one blanket. The place has already been emptied, everything in it stashed into boxes and moved here in anticipation of the wedding. He wonders if it's been sold yet, and if it has, then to who.

"You know, I. . . I never saw myself being with anyone."

It's a tight-lipped smile that graces his lips when he says that.

Naruto lets every detail of what stands before him sink in: the brick, the flowers, the roof. His eyes flit over the face of the mansion, drinking it in like water. Hinata, after watching him for a moment, hears Neji's last words to them echo in the back of her head. She's prompted to take her husband's hand into hers, spread the blunted fingers of it out on the face of her palm.

Naruto looks at her in surprise. Her moon eyes, mesmerizing as always, glimmer like silver mirrors against the darkness of midnight. Hinata smiles at him, confidence radiating from every part of her, and he wonders when it was that she became beautiful, when it was that she came into his dreams. He takes the liberty of lacing their fingers together, and the smile he wears eases up around the corners and sheds itself of pain.

Hinata opens her mouth:

"You are now."


	9. which to bury

Now that I read over this, I'd have to say this is one of the best things I've written for this fandom. Although it is a bit depressing, as there is some character death.

As always, read and review please!

* * *

He has a habit, after becoming Hokage, of spiraling into fits of depression.

Hinata watches him closely, perpetually looking for a slump in his shoulder or shadow across his eye. Some times, he passes her in the kitchen without uttering a word, curling their bed sheets around his fragile body and refusing to get up, purple stamped under his eyes. Others, he tucks his head into her shoulder and wraps his arms around her waist, breathing on her neck while she turns the spoon in the pot.

She likes these latter moments. They worry her less.

The depression stems from his weakest point. Though death surrounds his life's every part, he still finds it within him to believe that he will be the last to die, that the faces of his friends won't disappear before his does. This stands when Jiraiya dies, stands when Neji follows. He is the sun, after all, blooming each dawn with new purpose in his life, blotting out the darkness with time but vigor.

And then Kakashi's heart fails.

The Hokage and his sensei are on a joint mission when it happens, and though Naruto insists that Kakashi not come for fear of consequences he can't turn back from, the white haired prodigy simply refuses to let his bones waste away in uselessness, joking that he doesn't creak near as much as Naruto would like to think.

The fall is quick.

Kakashi's eyes go wide as he presses a hand to his chest and feels his heart flutter. Naruto's mouth opens in a precarious "o" as he whirls, and a ninja from the Mist takes the opportunity to pump his fist straight up the Hokage's back, locking any essential chakra points on his body. His body falls alongside Kakashi's, weightless and without movement. He whispers the old man's name, watching helplessly as his chest rises and falls. There are tears in Naruto's eyes and he cannot stop crying for the life of him, cannot wipe away the salted water that streaks down his face and burns when it touches his tongue.

He does not attend the funeral.

Hinata considers looking for him when the attendees begin to disperse, somberly eyeing Kakashi's gravestone as Himawari places honeysuckle at the foot of it. Shikamaru clamps a hand onto her shoulder, and when she turns, he gives her a look that says he will take care of it, and she breathes. Naruto comes home late that night, but when he pulls Hinata away from her sister and asks for her to curl up with him on the couch, she doesn't protest, letting him run his fingers absentmindedly through her hair.

Kakashi's death renders him fragile, more than anything. He takes too much care, to Shikamaru's frustration, favoring baseless treaties to little wars. His eyes lose their light quickly if someone is to die under his command, and the vigils he holds are long, long, _long_ , leaving her without knowledge of his whereabouts for hours. Hanabi says she can see the worry in her sister's face. Boruto often has to snap his fingers in order to get his mother's attention.

She isn't quite sure how to go on anymore.

{. . .}

Himawari finds her father standing in the gravyeard one day, billowing white cape missing from his shoulders, a battered flak jacket being the only thing to protect his sparsly clothed body from the wind. His feet sit in the shadow of gravestones worn down by the years gone by, and though she can't see his eyes, the sensation of them boring into cement is prevalent in the atmosphere.

"Daddy," she whispers, taking his hand. He looks at her, near lifeless. The death is Tsunade's.

The gravestones, however, are her grandparents'. He gravitates towards them more often these days, in search of some semblance of solace or guidance. Their time goes back to the darker ages, when war and strife were merely everyday expectations; when death came willingly, but still left a stone in your mouth that was hard to swallow. Himawari wonders what it was like, to live in that world. She doesn't understand how her parents survived it. Their love, maybe. It's the only explanation she can think of.

"Too many," her father murmurs under his breath, bringing his palms to his face. "Too many people have died because of me."

She considers this. Her father's choice of words irks her, as it would her mother. As it did, rather. The stories that span her parents' earlier days have been told to her brother over and over. She has their conversations wrapped into the palm of her hand, and she knows the one that comes back to this moment well. She knows it like she knows the whiskers that mark her face.

"What was it that Mama said once?" Himawari begins, vague for her father's benefit. Boruto stands near the back of the graveyard, toying with the bolt that hangs on his neck, waiting patiently for his sister to work away at the scabs already crusting on their father's emotional skin. "During the war, when Uncle died?"

She pauses, looking to her father. His gaze still hangs on his parents' names, but she thinks she has his attention. Himawari takes in a quick breath.

"That your life-"

"-is not only one," Naruto finishes quickly, as if the words have been etched into his memory since the moment they left his wife's pale lips. Himawari chances a glance at him, waiting for a light to resurface in his eyes. He smiles, though faintly, and the stubble about his mouth glints like a million little stars in the sunlight. Her heart lifts a bit, and she watches his face shift.

"Did she tell you to say that?" he muses. "Your mother, I mean." The grin he casts his daughter is not quite hollow, lips still pearlescent pink behind the cracks. Boruto lets his chain fall from his fingers and stuffs his hands into his pockets, making his way over with attitude in his every step. Naruto watches with a tinge of amusement, finding the points in his son's posture that mirror his younger days. His son is eighteen years old and more responsible than he ever was at this age, but he still shares his eyes and his smile and his heart, and it seems that that's all that matters.

Boruto brings his hand down hard on his father's shoulder. He stands a mere two inches shorter than the Hokage, matted hair unable to make up for the lost height. "Why don't you come home and find out?" he says gruffly, but not unpleasantly. "Did you bring flowers?" Naruto counters, and at this, his son perks his eyes and grows a grin on his face.

"No," Boruto replies cockily, "but I brought something better." He lifts a second chain from under his protective mesh shirt, and Naruto's eyes dilate at the sight of the blue-green crystal that hangs on it, polished and buffed into a fine prism shape. A thousand little memories start to filter through his mind: of Tsunade, and of everything her pendant ever meant to him until the day it inevitably shattered. He starts to say something, then stops, then starts again, then stops again, thinking better of it.

"Hima and I went through a hell of a lot of trouble to get this," - Boruto takes the chain off of his neck and hands it to his sister, who in turn takes her father's palm and wraps his fingers around the weight of it - "so we'd better not find you here again after we leave it with the Princess." The ponytailed jonin does his best to sound resolute at the ripe age of eighteen, pursing his lips and drawing his eyebrows together. Past her amused smile, Himawari thinks he does a fine job of it, and considers giving him a pat on the back later. "Ready?" she asks her father, who stands still but present, staring at his raised fist in wonder.

He grunts, softly. Brother and sister take it as a sign.

And they leave with their arms around each other.

{. . .}

When Hinata comes back from the funeral earlier that day, she finds herself at a loss with what to do with herself. Boruto and Himawari don't stay a minute indoors, murmuring that there is something they need to take care of, and Naruto, of course, disappears to wallow in a new skin of his sadness, freshly grown after hearing Tsunade's final words on her deathbed.

Hinata purses her lips and crosses her arms, staring at the listless and untouched furniture about her. The pillows are in place, her husband's ramen poster a bit skewed, and her knit scarf still left half undone from the previous evening. Her eyes stray to the kitchen. Yesterday's groceries still sit on the counter, fresh with spray. She hasn't found the motivation to make dinner yet, but the absence of anything else to do pulls her to the counter and into an apron.

Naruto and the children push the door open a quarter of an hour to dusk. Their voices sound normal - _his_ voice, sounds normal. Her breath hitches in her throat as she hears footsteps approach. Hinata twirls her spoon through a pot of soup she is waiting on to thicken, absentmindedly pushing her bangs out of her face, trying to keep the color from rising in her cheeks. His lips end up on the hairline at the base of her neck, his breath tracing shivers into her skin.

"Miss me?" he murmurs, lacing their fingers. "A little," she answers, quiet. "I made you soup."

"Can I have some?"

She considers the question, biting her lip, pensive. When she turns to bring the spoon to his mouth, Hinata peers into his eyes. They're tired, but just that, and nothing else. Naruto sips the beef brown liquid, and a little dribbles down his chin. She wipes the residue away with her finger and licks it clean, eyeing him. His arms have wrapped themselves around the small of her back, and he leans into her, pushing her gently against the counter.

"Are you okay, now?" she asks. The uncertainty in her moon eyes is troubling. He wonders if she always looks like that on these days, and decides that she does. Her hair is tousled, pulled into a messy and careless ponytail that says, _I don't know, I don't know, I don't know anymore._

"I'm okay." He matches her anxious stare, then pulls at the rubber band tying her hair together, running his fingers gently through the knots, smoothing it out. "Really," he says, smiling.

"Now can we have dinner?"


	10. i'll put a spell on you

An anon prompted me to write the process of Naruto falling for Hinata over the course of the Last movie, and this is what I had to offer. The confession scene's dialogue is a little inaccurate, but I didn't want to scroll through my tags looking for the exact words when I could most likely convey the same overall idea.

As always, read and review, please!

* * *

She resigns herself to standing in his shadow.

He is always so much taller than her, tousled hair adding inches to the fluid trick-of-the-light that falls into step behind him. She likes to let the tips of her feet touch the outline of his shoulders on the ground, broad and squarish, but rounded somehow, almost as if they were molded into the shape by the life that surrounded him.

He looks back at her every now and then, and she ducks her head, afraid that he might see the paleness of her eyes or her skin, the darkness of her hair. She has wanted for him to look at her like that since their history began, to look at her as if there is something more to her skin and her bones than the chakra that holds them together. And yet—

—it frightens her, to think that he can look at her like that. To think that he is capable.

When he touches her hand, her fingers linger on the bruises lining the underside of his fingernails. They are small, and colored lavender. He pulls his hand back and smiles at her, touching them to the hairs at the back of his neck. It would be a lie to say that his cheeks don't color, even if only a little.

She simpers.

Maybe she _can_ stand it. Maybe.

{…}

The cobwebs in her hair are unnecessary. So is the scream that peals from her mouth when the wisps of spider silk fall from their place on the walls and onto her like a halo.

It doesn't stop him from coming to her, though.

She drags her hand through her hair, filtering out the cobwebs, when he takes a few strands of violet into his fingers. She flinches, but as he loosens the silk, she lets her hand fall away, focusing instead on the simple smile that curves its way up his mouth.

Has the sun always been this gentle? She wonders at that.

{…}

He comes upon her knitting by the light of the fire one night, nimbly running the yarn through the needles. She does not notice him at first, too indulged in finishing what she hopes won't ruin like her first lovelaced creation. The tears in the frothy fabric are still fresh in her memory. She can hear the echo of it falling apart.

"What're you doing?" he murmurs, but not before something stark sounds from the hallway. The moment evaporates as soon as it condensated, and he whirls around, disappearing from the threshold.

She hears him tumble down the stairs.

He swears under his breath, quiet but still loud enough for her to hear. She flies down the stairs and touches a hand to his back. As he flinches in pain, her eyes go wide like the moon. "You're hurt," she says, stating the obvious.

When they make it back up the stairs, her eyes flicker to the scarf left on the floor. She fumbles through her pack until her fingers settle on the circle of a jar. He takes the ointment from her gingerly, murmuring "thank you" in the same way that he murmured before, with his lips barely stretched apart and the air frothing in front of him.

She senses the trouble he has in applying the ointment only moments after he takes it. His grunts harbor frustration, but not the dark kind, and she chuckles. His eyes fall on her, blue and bright against the dim firelight. Her cheeks color as she meets his gaze, and she ducks her head, whispering, "I should help you."

Her fingers skirt the fresh scars stretched across his back; his skin is harder here than it was under his fingernails. He sits silently as she rubs the ointment into his pores in small circles with her thumbs, the tips of her other fingers splayed gently against either side of his spine for support.

"Thank you," he echoes. She wonders two things: one, if he will ever not say that to her, and two, if she's making the words out to be larger than they really are.

{…}

The night she finishes the scarf is a firefly night. Their fluorescence hangs in the air like an oversized lamp, casting light about every which way. It makes fluid shapes in the water, sends shafts of light through the unnoticeable holes in the yarn.

He walks up to her, unexpected, and though she's surprised at first, falling into the rhythm of the conversation isn't hard. The words come to her mouth with an ease she hasn't felt since the war, and she muses if this is what otherworldy panic does: make the impossible, possible.

"I'll do anything to save Hanabi," he says, hands in his pockets, head downcast, nonchalance failing to follow through.

"Thank you," she says, standing up abruptly, hand leaving the yarn and needles. Her voice is soft, like her eyes, like her skin, like her hair. "You're so kind."

He blushes and does the thing again, with his fingers and the hairs at the back of his neck. "No, I- It's not just because I like you that I'm being nice to you. .

"I'm worried about her, too." These last words don't fall on her ears, though. Nothing does; not after the first "you" in his sentence. Goosebumps run up from the tips of her fingers to her shoulders, from her waistline down to her toes.

"Just now, what was that? What did you just say?"

He blinks back, confused. Confused and completely unphased by the words that have left his mouth. As if they were bound to leave it anyway. As if it were only a matter of time. As if—

—as if they were _natural._

"I said I was worried about her."

"No, no. Before that."

"Before that… Oh."

He stares at her, solid. She feels as if she might break.

"I said… that I liked you."


	11. dancin' like we're 22

I love the potential for this one-shot but I don't know if I'm satisfied with the outcome. Assume that it's a college au and that they're, I dunno, clubbing or something.

As always, read and review, please!

* * *

She's a nice dancer.

Her arms float about her like tree branches on a willow, and her hair whirls in a constant ellipse, casting midnight wherever she spins. She closes her eyes, and he hears her hum the music through her lips as he makes his way to her spot on the dance floor.

She hasn't sensed him yet. Her eyes aren't open. He can't see moons. _Okay, okay._

Naruto touches her bare shoulder with the tips of his fingers and trails his hand down to her waist, soft and slow, pressing his nose to the back of her neck. Her skin is cold, his breath warm, and she flinches, arms frozen in the air. Sakura giggles from a few feet away.

"What are you doing?" Hinata whispers, electrified. Her hands tremble with suspense as she brings one to brush against his knuckles. They're hard and hot, and she burns under their touch.

With an extravagant flourish, Naruto takes her fingers and pulls, spinning her along the length of her arm before bringing her back in. She stands an entire six inches shorter than him, hair touching the underside of his stubble-wrought chin, palms coming up flush against his chest. Her eyes are wide as the moon as she looks up at him. Naruto grins.

He brings up his mouth to her ear, and her breath hitches in her throat when he laces their fingers together and slips a hand around her waist, rendered bare by the long dip in the back of her dress. "What do you think?" he murmurs. Hinata feels his lips press gently to the curve of her soft skin; his words on her are hot and his hands even hotter. Her eyes dare to flutter.

"I'm flirting with you."


	12. cause you can let it slide

I barely edited this because I was lazy and because even if I weren't, I'm not exactly sure as to how I would change it.

As always, read and review, please!

* * *

"Hinata!"

Hinata looks away from the wounded nin at her right, eyes immediately searching for the spiked, golden hair that matches her husband's voice. He barrels part the rest of her battalion of Hyuuga clansmen, a hand held to his lip where it continues to spill blood. When his eyes find hers, a shiver runs through her body, and she averts her gaze.

 _He's angry,_ she realizes.

"What the _hell?"_ As Naruto reaches her place in the crowd, he lowers himself to enter her line of vision. His eyes - usually sky blue - burn a deep, dark cerulean, and Hinata musters the courage to stare straight into their tumultuous oceans when he grips her by the shoulders.

"I'm fine," she begins, recounting her grand total of three major injuries: a dislodged left shoulder, two kunai (once stuck) in her lower abdomen, and what she thinks may be a concussion. The former two of these are close to being completely healed, and though she does feel a little lighthearted and has come close to passing out, focusing her energies on healing the rest of her clan, she thinks, has done her enough good to last her another hour or so.

"You're a _wreck,"_ he spits out.

She's stung.

Voice wavering, Hinata replies, "Did I really worry you that much?" She thanks Hamura that the girl before her is unconscious, the world about the three of them in a state of (slowly recovering) hysteria. She does not want to be mortified, not in front of these people whose respect it has taken _years_ to garner.

 _"What do you think?"_ Naruto, eyebrows dangerously slanted, stresses each word as he stares harshly into her face, but she notices the way that his voice cracks when comes to the word "you" and without a second thought, she seizes upon it.

"I think that you're afraid."

Her voice is barely above a whisper, and his eyebrows unknit into a dumbfounded expression. Hinata gently lowers the nin's body to the ground before standing up to cup her hands against the curve of Naruto's chin and neck. As she touches her nose to his face, she feels his breath shudder and the argument in his throat die down.

"I'm okay."

Her lip brushes him where he bleeds; he tastes like salt.

"You're okay."

He closes his eyes, lets his grip on her shoulders soften.

"We're okay."

She kisses him.

...

 _They're okay._


	13. i will be there with bells on

This is a heavily edited repost of one of my old Naruto fics, as is the trend for this series. I got a review asking me to continue, and I couldn't help but indulge since I have yet to post a few of my other Naruto fics here.

Read and review, please! I hope you enjoy!

* * *

He asked me again, "When I die, will you come to my funeral?"

"You're exasperating! Yes, yes, if you die before me—and you won't—I will come. I will be there with bells on."

"I don't want you to wear bells, Comfort. I just want you to come."

"It's an expression, Peach. It means I'll be glad to come." I thought about it. "Maybe _glad_ isn't the word. _Honored_ is the word that Daddy uses."

— _each little bird that sings,_ by deborah wiles

* * *

He wonders if it would be wrong to touch her.

Hinata shivers in front of him, arms wrapped around her body. Her eyes are dimmed and hollow, and she stares ahead into the distance, watching the incense as it floats up from her cousin's grave.

During the war, Hinata had been the one who chose to be strong while he nearly fell prey to loss all over again. She had slapped his cheek and reminded him that in his hands was not the life of one person, but many. She had given him purpose, and a little love when he most needed it.

And so Naruto wonders if now, he should do the same, because, in truth, she is anything but strong right now.

The crowd begins to part, and she makes her way to the front with a bundle of lavender in her hands. For once, the smell does not carry, blotted out by the acrid presence of smoke. Hinata sets the flowers down by Neji's grave with a broken finality, and Naruto is reminded of Asuma's funeral, of Kurenai placing poppies on the ground over her lover's body.

"Let me take you home," he says when the service is over, and Hinata whirls around to face him, pain and astonishment and relief all mixed into her milky eyes. Words are hard to form in her mouth, but she gathers herself together and looks at him in earnest, smiling faintly. "I'd like that."

They take the long way home, dawdling along the cobblestone path that leads into the heart of the village. Naruto stuffs his hands into his pockets and says nothing, unsure of what would be appropriate given the situation.

Jiraiya's death, after all, was more personal to him than anything. To the people of the village, he had been a Legendary Sannin worthy of honor and praise. But to Naruto, the man had been nothing but a father and a candle light to follow. And no one really understood that, except maybe Tsunade.

Neji's death is different, though. To both of them, he was a brother, and his absence from in between them paws at the air, creates an everlasting space that Naruto is afraid to fill. Hinata holds her hands behind her back and looks away from him, into buildings empty and buildings full. Her shoulders are held stiffly high, and he notices that the skin over her jaw is pulled taught.

She is trying to hold herself together, trying to stem the flow.

He knows she won't last long.

Naruto branches his arm out in an awkward gesture, until the fingers on his left hand—his unbroken hand—brush against her shoulder. An intangible pool of emotions swirls in each of her thistle eyes, but nothing can keep him from staying rooted to this point.

The tremors begin in the tips of her fingers, trail down to her arms that hover inches from his frame. Hinata chokes out a small sound, looks anywhere but at his face. Her breaths are short and they pummel his chest, one stuttered intake after another.

Her hand on his cheek is a vivid and tactile memory, and he holds it high in his heart.

"It's alright," he murmurs, and he takes her by the shoulders, holds her hard to his chest. Hinata's eyes split wide to winter moons, but her fingers alight on his collar and curl. "Better to let it all out right now, don't you think?" He takes the slight lift of her head as affirmation.

Every volatile inkling of emotion is forced deep down when he first hears her cry. The path to the Hyuuga residence winds away from them in a twisting path, and he stares at it unflinchingly, knowing that if he falters all of his anguish will tear out, as hers already has.

All that can be heard throughout the streets of Konoha are the jagged, racking wails of the deceased's cousin, of the girl who began small and became big, and is now back at the beginning all over again.

["Because. . . you told me. . . that I'm a failure."]

Naruto bites back the beginnings of a bitter laugh; that the Chuunin Exams, the mission to rescue Gaara, the first scenes of the war, rest so far back in his memory is a jarring fact. The crossed curse mark on Neji's forehead stares back at him from the ether, and he breathes out in a whisper, "Asshole."

"Don't call him that."

A startled shake of his shoulders has Hinata pulling back. The emotional nin stays within breadth of his arms, but makes no move to press her face into his chest again. Naruto stares at her in slight bewilderment. He moves his thumb to wipe away the tears under her eyes, gaze hooked all the while on the defiant stare she sends back.

"Sorry," he murmurs. It's easy to forget sometimes how tenacious she is.

Hinata holds his gaze for another moment, then blinks and allows a smile to pull her lips. "It's alright," she answers. Her face turns to the sun and the shadow it casts on the cobblestone, and Naruto swears he can feel her heart trill. The Hyuuga residence is a far but definite destination.

"I'm ready to go home," she tells him. Naruto grins.

He thinks he's finally ready, too.


	14. put it on me

Another rewrite; there wasn't as much to change with this, but I feel like that's mostly because I wasn't very satisfied with the piece in the first place. Hopefully, you guys enjoy it as much as the fans on Tumblr did!

Read and review, please!

* * *

There is something about the way she towers above him, skin soaked with sweat, hands pinning either of his arms to the ground, that tells him he should ask her to move in with him already. That, or wallow alone within the confines of his apartment for the rest of his days.

Hinata heaves one, two breaths before releasing her hands and letting him go. The gleeful grin that lines her lips makes it hard for Naruto be frustrated with his now umpteenth loss in today's sparring session. Gifted though he may be, the _taijutsu_ skills of the Hyuuga family are too much for even him to handle, and he's found in his months of dating Hinata that sparring with her is more than a workout.

As she rings the sweat that drips from her hair, Naruto leans in and knocks their foreheads together. "Spend the day at my place," he murmurs. His lips brush against her nose, and he feels her giggle under his touch. They both smell undeniably of dirt and sweat, but that fact hardly bothers them. Hinata lets him trail his lips down to the hollow of her neck.

"I'd have to go home and take a shower first," she answers, reasonable, and before he can quite shut himself up—

—"Shower at my place."

Hinata pulls away to give him a bewildered, although not offended, look. Genuine curiosity swims into her expression, and as Naruto realizes what exactly it is that he's insinuated, he blushes a deep red and refuses to meet her eyes.

"Oh!" he blurts out. "I— I meant separately. Like take turns. That way you wouldn't have to, uh, go home. Yeah."

The laughter that peals from her throat makes him blush harder than ever, and as she pulls his face into her hands and presses a sloppy kiss to his lips, he finds himself once again left totally dumbstruck. Hinata walks off in the direction of his apartment with a skip to her step, but Naruto only shakes his head in awe before following her down the pebble-ridden lane.

The natural sequence of things to come goes a little like this: take showers, eat food, make out, maybe talk. Logically, there's more than one opportunity available for him to ask her to move in, but he doubts he'll actually be able to take one without chickening out first.

Although they have been together for over half a year, Naruto still finds it difficult to ask her important questions without totally dissolving into a puddle. Kiba has told him that there was a time Hinata used to faint at his mere presence, but Naruto still has yet to believe him.

As he turns the key in the lock—the apartments aren't far from where they spar, just two or three miles—Hinata turns to him and says, "Why don't you shower first, Naruto-kun? You'll be quick about it."

"But then I'll have to wait for you," he replies, pouting slightly for good measure. Hinata will have none of it, though, and she struts past him and into the kitchen, a teasing smile on her lips all the while.

Naruto, a little disappointed but amused nonetheless, parades obediently into the bathroom and gets the shower going. True to her expectation, he finishes quickly, in barely ten minutes. As he towels himself off, the thought of asking her while they pass each other at the threshold crosses his mind. It's certainly not the brightest idea, but it is one way to get the words out and done with, so he prepares himself as her footsteps near.

"Hina—"

The voice cuts off in his throat before he can so much as make eye contact; Hinata stands to attention before him, eyes alight with a silent curiosity that he is too nervous to answer. Naruto panics briefly, then shrugs off the mishap and mumbles under his breath, allowing her to pass him while crimson flushes his cheeks.

Upon walking into the kitchen, Naruto is met with a boiling pot of water and an unopened bag of noodles. He scissors the packet and pours out two servings, then leans his head back against cupboards. Instant ramen is by no means extravagant, but he and Hinata have an unspoken tradition of eating it whenever they're at his apartment.

He likes it most when their lips meet in the middle, when the sauce isn't just on the noodles, but on her mouth and her tongue.

"It smells good," Hinata murmurs, and Naruto nearly startles.

The sight of her in a towel and nothing more has goosebumps running up the length of his arms. Naruto swallows nervously, then trails his gaze down to the water drops freckling her legs, flushed the softest rose pink. His eyes never stray, stuck to the pucker of her lips, the slick of her hair. Hinata takes a whiff of the ramen, then hums in satisfaction at the fragrant smell.

"I think it's ready," she says.

Naruto ladles the soup into a serving bowl while she sets the table. The curtains on the windows are pulled back to let the mellow light of a slow sunset filter through. Hinata sits with her arms hugging the back of her chair, eyes set on something summery outside. He falls in with her, pulls a chair up at her side.

As the violet-haired nin watches the sunbathed sky, Naruto takes the time to admire the light, light freckles brought out in her skin from the shower. His fingers brush against her calves just a bit, though she doesn't notice it for a while; maybe because she's already so used to his touch.

"Move in with me," he says suddenly, voice barely above a whisper. Hinata turns her head away from the sky, the clouds, the sunlight. Her ramen bowl is nearly empty, and she trails her spoon away slowly from her lips. Naruto can hardly discern a thing from her unreadable expression, only that perhaps she wants him to go on.

"I know we haven't been together for long," he starts. "But— but I _like_ it with you, Hinata. I like it with you, and when I'm here, when I'm at home, _alone,_ I— I don't know what to do with myself."

"So please,"—he swallows down the bob in his throat—" _please,_ stay with me."

Hinata parts her lips, then closes the gap; the silence that follows is almost unbearable. For a long, long time, Naruto keeps his eyes fixated on the space of wood he can make out between the crisscross of his legs. Only when he feels like he can bear it no longer does he look up, and to find nothing less than Hinata standing up from her chair.

She walks towards him with a suspenseful sort of air, lavender eyes barely visible, hair tangled about her shoulders. Naruto can barely breathe as she moves to envelop him. Hinata draws her arms about his neck and presses her forehead to his cheek, and Naruto feels his face burn with hormonal fire as she touches him chest to chest, navel to navel, hip to hip. Her legs are cold against his skin, but for some reason he doesn't register the feeling, only the fact that her body is cradled in his.

As they sit like that, completely entangled in each other and doing nothing more than breathing, Hinata brings her lips to his ear. He thinks he knows what she's going to say, but the fear of it not being what he wants leads him to rope his arms around her back, pull her close, dig his face into her neck. Hinata, smiling, runs her fingers through the spikes in his hair. As she opens her mouth, his breath hitches in his throat, and he waits, agonized.

A giggle passes her lips as she presses them to his skin. "Okay," she murmurs, and she kisses him. Naruto lets out a throaty sigh.

"Okay."


	15. death with dignity

At last! The final chapter of this drabble series! I'm going to leave this off on a bit of a sad note, but I hope you enjoy this chapter as much as you've enjoyed the rest! It's been great sharing with you all. :)

As always, read and review, please!

* * *

These are the things that Hinata can recall when she is eighty: her daughter lacing lavender into her hair, the rain that follows her only son's funeral, and the feel of her husband's hand on her cheek as she cries into it and asks:

"What am I supposed to do if you die?"

Naruto takes a strand of her silvery hair and pushes it back over the curve of her ear. There are wrinkles layered into her skin that he can trace with the blunted point of his finger, but instead he presses his thumb across the lines, tries to remember a day when her eyes being white did not mean that she was blind.

Her face melts into the cup of his hand, and she closes her eyes, because this is their bed, and he is about to die.

Her husband is leaving a stain of himself in their sheets, and she will never wash them again. She will keep his ramen posters stuck to the wall. His cape with the scarlet stitching will still hang on the door to their room, and Himawari will come home every day with one just like it.

Memories will filter through her mind as if in a cycle, on-going, never-ending.

She is not prepared.

As Naruto holds her face in his hands, she counts the hairs on his head. A thin, gray sheet is all that covers his scalp. He smiles at her, and though his face is even more hidden from her beneath the warts and wrinkles, she sees through to his eyes: big and bright and bedazzling blue.

They take her back to painted streets and petty wars, to love for the first time in a place beyond the moon. A wilted tear escapes and slips down her cheek.

 _Please, one more minute. One more hour. One more._

These are the things that Hinata can recall when she is eighty: her daughter donning a cape of red and white, the poppies her son used to gift her on her every birthday, and the feel of her husband's eyes on her heart as he says:

"Survive."

* * *

**If you have any ideas for another Naruto drabble series I could write, don't hesitate to send them in!


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